


Adverse Alteration

by E4t_The_Rude



Category: One Piece
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Swap, Eventual Relationships, M/M, Some Humor, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E4t_The_Rude/pseuds/E4t_The_Rude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite their differences, Sanji and Zoro could both finally agree on one thing. They both absolutely despised Trafalgar Law's devil fruit abilities...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story back in 2012 and recently rediscovered it on my USB stick. Figured that it would be a shame to let it go to waste, so here it is.

For what seemed like, and probably had been several hours, Sanji was slumped lazily against the door of the men's quarters, knees drawn to his broad chest whilst he released yet another sigh, his head hanging low in defeat. Upon arriving back at the ship the cook had headed straight for the first floor without so much as looking back, hauling himself through the door without a second thought.

He'd ended up standing there for a few dazed moments, his back against the hard wood until he eventually slid to the floor with an audible thud.

Since then, he hadn't moved.

On a few occasions he'd almost forgotten himself, taking a large hand to brush the blonde hair from his eyes until he remembered that in fact the soft strands were gone.

Raising his head, he held out his right hand and examined it curiously under the soft light, tracing the tanned skin with his fingers- Zoro's skin.

The calloused hands were much larger and rougher than his own and it was only after really examining them for himself that he realised how different a mere hand could be from person to person. Clenching the hand into a tight fist, he could feel Zoro's arm tense from the movement, the mass of muscle rippling impressively beneath the warm skin.

Sure he'd seen the swordsman's impressive muscles before- whilst he was training on deck without a shirt, the sweat glistening in the strenuous heat and when he slept on the deck during the warm summer weather, oblivious to the world.

Sanji had certainly seen what the Marimo had to offer.

He hadn't noticed the scar on the palm of Roronoa's right hand, or the way the swordsman's muscles rippled with even the smallest gesture.

He'd never realised how damn heavy he was compared to his own skinny frame.

Seeing from another's perspective was certainly one thing; feeling was an entirely different matter.

Although the blonde hated to admit it and had certainly tried to deny it for the past few hours, he was struggling to cope with the sheer bulk of the swordsman. Sanji was struggling to manoeuvre the muscular build. He felt sluggish, tired- heavy, and it made him feel weak.

He felt pathetic.

There he was, moping around in the dingy, confined space like a teenage girl that had been dumped by her boyfriend. He wasn't quite sure what he was so damn upset about- when Trafalgar was recovered, he'd soon be able to return to his body, however it was uncertain how long he'd have to wait.

It could be weeks until the bastard became fully conscious...

With yet another sullen sigh, Sanji pushed himself to his feet, grimacing at the foreign feeling of three earrings swinging delicately in his left ear. It was almost funny how he was picking up on even the most minor details; it wasn't as if they were uncomfortable, however it just felt... unusual.

The men's quarters were located on the first floor of the ship, and there was a small room located between two doors. Crew mates had to pass through this small room in order to enter the main space containing their lockers and bunks. The small room consisted of nothing but a sink, mirror, and small cabinet perched upon the wall. The ships washing facilities and toilets were located on the level above the men's quarters, which seemed like a long distance when you had to stumble through the ships halls in the middle of the night in complete darkness...

The cook approached the sink, almost wincing at the sound of his heavy footsteps as the swordsman's black boots sounded against the cold floor. He grasped the sink with both hands, squeezing tightly as he mentally prepared himself for the task ahead of him, ignoring the irritating dripping of the tap.

He knew that he was being stupid- this was without a doubt Zoro's body; however Sanji was determined to see for himself what his reflection had in store for him. He was curious, nervous- hell he wasn't sure what was killing him more, the nervousness crawling in the pit of his stomach or the irritating curiosity gnawing away at the back of his head.

Whatever it was, he wanted it gone.

Taking a deep breath in anticipation, the cook slowly rose his head, averting his gaze to the mirror; when he was met with the sight of a piercing dark eye, he was unable to restrain a gasp, overwhelmed by the entire situation. Observing the green haired man that was his reflection, Sanji couldn't help but feel weak at the knees. The sight of the handsome face staring back at him was almost too much for him to handle, and as he inched closer, he could see the warm puff of air cloud the mirror as he breathed.

It was embarrassing.

How could the shitty muscle head so this to him? He saw the man all the damn time, and yet he'd never provoked this kind of reaction.

Taking Zoro's right hand from the glass, he began tracing his cheek. Slowly, he began to touch- his lips at first, and then his cheeks, the cold earrings through his left ear, and finally, almost hesitantly he paused as he reached the swordsman's left eye; touching it gently with his fingertips, he restrained a flinch. It felt wrong as he traced the fine scar, pausing hesitantly as he touched the closed eyelid.

There was no use in avoiding it- the cook knew that it was a matter of time until he succumbed to the curiosity welling up inside of him. Every since he'd first set eyes on Zoro and his new interesting scar he'd wanted to know what lay beneath the scarred eyelid. Of course, he would never of dreamed of asking the green haired man himself, because it was practically unspeakable for the blond cook to ask the Marimo any kind of personal question. The man probably wouldn't have told him if he'd asked- how else was he supposed to know?

Now, he had a chance to make the desired discovery.

Wearily, he slowly opened Zoro's left eye, unfazed by the sight that greeted him in his reflection. Sanji glanced back at the pair of mismatched eyes in the mirror, hardly surprised that the left eye seemed to sit motionless in its socket, lighter in colour and unfocused.

The swordsman was blind.

He tried so hard not to feel pity for Zoro, but there was just no denying the ounce of sympathy lurking in the pit of his stomach at the lack of sight in the lifeless orb. The Marimo certainly was coping fine without it, however there was no way of knowing for certain what he was really thinking. The swordsman had never really opened up to anyone on the ship about his feelings and even most intimate of thoughts- not even Luffy. He was private man, and this worried the cook. He wondered if it was healthy for him to keep bottling things up like he did. Surely even Zoro needed someone to confide in?

Sanji realised that he was just making assumptions. He had no way of really knowing what the swordsman did, no way of really knowing if he was pouring his heart out to anyone in ultimate secrecy.

If only things were different between them, then perhaps Sanji could be Zoro's shoulder to lean on- he was more than willing to listen, if only he knew how to fix the apparent rift between them...

Perhaps, he thought, the entire situation was a mere figment of his imagination.

Perhaps the distance between them wasn't as large as it seemed, and he was just being stupid.

Perhaps there was more hope for them than he'd initially thought.

He doubted it.

Gazing at the handsome face in the mirror, Sanji Blackleg realised in dismal realisation that no matter how much his relationship with Zoro improved or changed, he'd never be as close to the man as he'd like to be.

They'd always be nakama- nothing more.

He wanted something beyond his reach, and the current situation he found himself in was purely torturous. The body he'd longed to touch for so long was suddenly within his immediate grasp-

Suddenly, Sanji found himself splashing his face with cold water in an attempt to clear his thoughts. It did little to ease his conscience, nor did it purge his mind of his perverted fantasies.

The water wasn't cold enough, he decided dismally.

It didn't help in the slightest that Zoro's attire seemed to exclude concealing his impressive chest. He wasn't blind to the fact that he was attractive- the bastard was flaunting it in the most torturous way possible, whether he was aware of it or not.

Glancing back at the mirror with a depressed sigh, the cook knew that he was in for a bumpy ride. The next few days were going to be long, tedious, and almost certainly torturous.

At last, he decided that it was time to leave the confines of the men's quarters and return to the comfort of his own territory- the kitchen. Perhaps it would make him feel better if he could just loose himself in his cooking for a few hours...

Sanji grasped the handle tightly with his right hand, taking a deep breath before opening the door. As he reluctantly emerged from the dingy room, there was only one thought occupying his mind.

He was going to kill Trafalgar Law.

//////////////////////////////////////////

Taking another swig from the glass in his right hand, Roronoa Zoro grimaced at the bitter taste violating his taste buds, suppressing an obvious shiver of discontent.

The cheap liquor he'd pinched from the cook's cabinet tasted vile, lingering on his lips and the back of his throat with a fiery burn. Drinking was a past time that the swordsman could enjoy in a wide variety of situations, when he was happy, sad, angry- however, it appeared that in his current predicament, it did little to soothe him.

Of all of the bodies he could have ended up in, it had to have been Sanji's. It was almost funny- and Zoro would have perhaps laughed if he wasn't still recovering from the inevitable shock.

Averting his gaze to the three swords that rested on the kitchen table, the swordsman examined them under the light with a feeling of thorough discontent. The absent weight from his hip felt unnatural to him- it was almost as if he'd lost a limb. Although he wasn't one for caring about appearances, the green haired man had to admit that he'd look rather ridiculous if he continued wearing his swords. It wouldn't suit Sanji in the slightest.

He wondered if he'd be able to use them the same way in the blonde's body; after all, Sanji's strength in battle lay in the use of his legs, unlike Zoro, who needed upper body strength in order to use his swords to their full ability. He had no doubt that the cook was strong, however the swordsman doubted that he'd be able to fight to his usual standard- being placed in another body was like wearing a pair of shoes that didn't fit. He couldn't move in the same way, the way he flexed his hands, walked or talked- he could feel it, this feeling of not belonging in the cook's frame.

It was almost as if he was being rejected from the vessel of Sanji's body, except he couldn't just leave when he wanted to.

He was at the mercy of Trafalgar Law.

The green haired swordsman had yet to study himself in the mirror; after all, he knew what Sanji looked like. He'd studied the cook from afar, absorbing each and every detail, from the way he walked to the number of cigarettes he smoked each day.

It wasn't unusual for Zoro to sit in the kitchen while Sanji was busy preparing food for the crew, nursing an alcoholic drink in his hand whilst he watched contently with a pair of dark, curious eyes. He knew nothing about cooking, nor did he have any skill in the matter, however he was always mesmerised by the cooks passion and confidence in the kitchen.

There was nothing more hypnotising than watching Sanji Blackleg in his own territory. Despite the frequent arguing between the them, Zoro felt almost privileged that the cook allowed him to sit whilst he worked, while others like Luffy and Ussop were often evicted from the kitchen when Sanji was busy. The repetitive thud of the knife against the chopping board was oddly soothing for the swordsman at times.

As Roronoa Zoro raked a hand through Sanji's soft blond hair with a small sigh, he ears were greeted only with the ominous sound of silence. The cook hadn't set foot in the kitchen for what had probably been several hours, an unusual occurrence. Since the crew had arrived back at the ship, Sanji had disappeared silently below deck, and Zoro had headed straight for the liquor cabinet. The rest of the crew hadn't made any attempt to disturb them, giving both men some much needed space to think.

He just couldn't seem to process his current predicament.

He was stuck in the body of Sanji Blackleg, and it felt just as bizarre as it sounded.

Zoro was yet to completely grasp the fact that somewhere on the ship, his own body was wondering around freely without him.

It was insane.

When the pair had first swapped bodies, the process had been suspiciously quick and painless. At the time, they had been far too preoccupied to do any real thinking or panicking. The first thing that Zoro had noticed was that his swords had been missing from his hip. In a worried frenzy, he'd instinctively lowered his hand to his hip, only to find that he was in fact wearing a pair of black trousers that most certainly didn't belong to him. Reaching a hand reluctantly into one of the pockets, his suspicions had been confirmed when he'd pulled out a half empty cigarette packet.

Sanji's smart attire was just too constricting for Zoro's personal tastes-there were too many goddamn buttons. The long sleeved and stiff collared shirt made him feel like an imposter. He couldn't have described the feeling if someone had asked him to. He just knew that it felt wrong.

There was no escaping the smell of tobacco that lingered in his nostrils. It wasn't particularly nauseating, however it was irritating. Zoro found himself resisting the urge to get up and walk away from the smell aggravating his sinuses.

It was going to take some getting used to.

There had always been a tension that existed between the two men, ever since Sanji had joined Luffy's crew. At first, it had almost appeared to be petty bickering amongst the stubborn nakama. However now, Zoro just wasn't so sure. There was just something there, and what this something was, he just couldn't put his finger on it. What the green headed swordsman felt for the stubborn cook was not entirely pure irritation; the feeling he got when the cook reacted to his jibes was something that made him feel radiant inside and out. It could have been suggested that Zoro gained a significant amount of twisted pleasure from watching the blonde narrow his eyes in anger, spitting insults mercilessly in his direction whilst proceeding to try and kick him-

Zoro just loved seeing the cook irritated.

He looked fucking sexy.

'Sexy,' the swordsman thought as he released a loud yawn.

Glancing at the pair of slender hands that rested on the cold table top, Zoro decided that thinking about the flexible blond was giving his brain a strenuous work out.

'Shit. Doing it again,' he sighed, rubbing his temples with a slight frown. 'Flexible... I wonder if he's flexible in all the right places-'

"What are you doing here?"

The sound of a deep voice emerging from the doorway interrupted the swordsman from his thoughts sharply; he could recognise that gruff tone from anywhere.

It was the sound of his own voice.

Without averting his gaze from the dull tabletop, the swordsman merely responded with a dull tone.

"I live on this ship, remember?"

There was a pause before Sanji attempted a response.

"I- " He began, running a hand through the swordsman's hair. When the cook was often in awkward situations like this, he had a tendency of running a hand through his blonde hair. Since his usual long fringe was currently missing, he tried to substitute the soft golden strands for Zoro's short green ones, however it did little to relieve him. It just didn't feel the same. "Do you have to sit in here?"

"What the fuck have I-"

"Nothing. I just- It's... Fuck. Its fucking weird trying to talk to you with my own face looking back at me..."

Almost as soon as the swordsman raised the cold glass to his lips, he hesitated, placing it back upon the table top almost delicately with the cook's slender right hand.

He craned his neck, averting his gaze to the very familiar green haired figure that stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame wearily. He could see the cook's gaze shift once the man realised that he was looking.

His- Zoro's dark eyes shifting to the floor almost uncomfortably.

Sanji suppressed a shiver as he felt the swordsman admire his own body almost critically. He could feel the swordsman watching with a warm gaze, examining the well toned bare chest with what could have only been pride.

Zoro could feel a small smile tug at his lips. He could see the cook try not to squirm, pinned by his gaze.

Sanji glared. "You're an asshole."

"What's the matter Princess? I'm just admiring the view..."

"Bastard..."

As he reached for a knife to peal a potato from the counter, Sanji frowned at how odd it felt as he held the familiar sharp appliance in his hand. As he attempted to slice the vegetable, he could hardly watch as he held the blade almost awkwardly in Zoro's calloused hand, being weary of the his fingers.

The sound of the knife against the thick chopping board wasn't as fluent and graceful as it should have been,and even Zoro was beginning to notice that the cook's cutting skills were a little off; however the swordsman chose to remain silent. He wasn't in much of a mood for being on the receiving end of one of the blonds' mood swings; all he wanted to do was to finish the rest of the bottle, crawl into his hammock, and fall into an alcohol induced slumber.

There was nothing he liked better than to sleep, especially after numbing himself with drink. Glancing at the remaining amber coloured contents of the tall glass bottle, it became apparent that there were perhaps two glassfuls left- although unusually he didn't particularly fancy any more, the swordsman poured himself another glass.

It was almost a tradition- Zoro always felt compelled to finish the entire bottle.

As the glass hit the table with an audible thud, the sound caught the cook's attention. Sanji paused with the knife in his hand and glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the bottle's label critically with a narrowed dark eye.

"I see the change didn't do anything to enhance your taste in alcohol. Are you even using my taste buds at all?"

Zoro took one glance into his own dark, piercing eye, and looked down at the drink in Sanji's hand. He shrugged, taking another mouthful of the ominous amber liquid, restraining a shiver as the foul tasting substance crawled down the back of his throat with a fiery burn in its path, a bitter taste lingering on his lips.

"Yeah. They're telling me that this stuff tastes of shit."

"Why are you drinking it then moron?!" Sanji asked with a frown, averting his gaze back to the knife in his hand as he resumed his chopping, the blade thudding against the cutting board with a repetitive thud.

"A drink is a drink. I don't care what they taste like."

"Don't pollute me with that shit," Sanji added, making no attempt to remove the glass from Zoro's hand.

The next few minutes passed quietly, the swordsman watching his own body prepare dinner whilst nursing the last mouthful of drink in the cook's hand. Seeing himself in the kitchen, moving stiffly across the room and lingering around the stove- it was surreal.

He'd never been one to spend hours in front of the mirror, only really taking a glance at his own reflection when he took a shave.

He'd never once wondered what it would be like to observe himself from another perspective. Now that he was really looking, he realised just how much he'd changed. Despite the obvious change of attire and the addition of his new scar, Zoro could see that his hair was slightly longer. It was funny how he hadn't really noticed until now...

Although the cook currently had his back to him at the stove, the swordsman could sense that Sanji was struggling to concentrate. The chopping sounds he'd heard earlier had been much more irregular and stressed, a far cry from the blonde's usual quick and confident pace- the knife had seemed like a foreign object in his hands.

Zoro had almost offered to help- almost. He'd decided against the idea, because Sanji Blackleg disliked people in his territory whilst he was working. The way the man paced back and forth between the counter and the stove- he was like a caged lion, and the swordsman wasn't prepared to put his hand in the cage.

Kicking the oven door shut with a scowl, Sanji headed over to the wine rack and then the kitchen table with the bottle in one hand and a tall glass in the other.

He took a seat beside the drinking swordsman, ignoring the man's questioning gaze and began to pour, watching the liquid fizz with an inward sigh. He tended to avoid drinking when he was in a bad mood, and for the past hour he'd done his best to resist the temptation to crack open a bottle and drink desperately like a barbarian. He drank from the glass solemnly, glancing reluctantly at the swordsman, only to find that the man was smiling at him.

A flicker or irritation flared within him, and the cook scowled, a fitting expression for the swordsman's face.

"What are you smiling at?" Sanji asked gloomily, the sounds of the swordsman's voice emerging from his throat in a mellow tone.

"Never thought I'd see myself drinking wine. I look stupid."

"You always look stupid, shit head..."

Zoro resisted the urge to grin. It was nice to see that the cook hadn't lost his sense of humour. When Sanji had come and sat willingly beside him, he'd almost pinched himself for the second time that day.

"Whatever you say cook."

The swordsman grasped the neck of the bottle and proceeded to drain it brutishly of its remaining contents, drinking the rest of the liquid in a single mouthful. Placing it back on the table, he began to pick at the label idly, whilst ignoring the minor ache beginning to emerge in his temples.

He frowned.

It wasn't like him to get a headache from drinking, however he soon realised that really, at that particular moment in time, he wasn't like himself at all. Perhaps Sanji's body just wasn't used to draining an entire bottle in one sitting...

He resisted the urge to groan. He could already feel Sanji's head beginning to pound with a dull ache. Drinking was supposed to make him feel numb and sleepy. It wasn't supposed to make him feel like this- shitty and sore headed.

He buried his head in his hands with a small moan; he could almost feel the cook watching him, smiling.

"What's the matter marimo? Can't handle a drink?"

"Fuck you," the swordsman replied weakly, closing Sanji's blue eyes tightly shut in an attempt to block out the bright artificial lights of the kitchen. "Screw you and your pansy ass..."

"Such a foul mouth," the cook replied, his mood improving slightly. "If you want to drink yourself into a coma, do it in your own body asshole. I don't want you fucking up my liver too- I can already feel yours practically dissolving."

Zoro removed the head from his hands and sluggishly left the table. Upon reaching the door, he paused. Without taking so much as a glance at the cook's green haired form, he ignored the pounding in his head for a brief second, feeling the corner of his mouth tug into a small smile.

"Bitch at me all you want cook. This doesn't change the fact that you can't handle a drink..."

Sanji glared daggers at the back of his own blonde head. The distraction was enough to make him forget temporarily about the change- he forgot about the toned, tanned body he was currently trapped in, and the way that the mirror had teased him with his handsome reflection and mysterious dark eyed gaze. All he could think about was how wonderful it would be to kick the swordsman's head in. The green haired man just knew how to press his buttons.

"We're not all alcoholics like you shithead. I can handle a drink as much as the next man; I'm just not greedy like you."

"Whatever Princess, I could feel you getting tipsy off of the fumes-"

"GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN SHIT HEAD!"

"Something I said?"

"I SAID OUT!"

//////////////////////////////////////////

The Strawhat's dinner was an unusually silent affair, and was perhaps the quietest mealtime that had ever occurred in the ships history.

After Sanji's usual announcement that the food was ready, the crew-mates had gradually strolled through the kitchen door one by one. The ladies arrived in their usual fashion, graceful and quiet, Nami sinking into her seat calmly whilst Robin emerged from her reading; this was followed by Brook's almost inaudible footsteps, the rushed arrival of a 'starving' Luffy, Usopp, an exhausted Chopper, Zoro, and finally, the booming footsteps of cyborg Franky in all of his mechanical glory.

At times, Sanji often compared feeding the crew to providing for a small army.

On some occasions they could certainly make enough noise to rival an army.

That particular evening however, the only sounds emerging from the kitchen table was the occasional clang of cutlery and the growls of the Captains noisy and demanding stomach. It wasn't quite silent enough to hear a pin drop, however the quietness was still rather nerving.

It was an odd sight indeed to see the ships cook sitting at the table in Roronoa Zoro's usual seat, whilst the swordsman himself stood leaning against the kitchen counter, ready to tend to the crews needs with a tired frown.

Running a hand through his newly acquired green hair, Sanji glanced over to the swordsman with a piercing dark eye. It was apparent to him that the Marimo was feeling uncomfortable, not just from the headache but the odd glances he was receiving from the rest of the crew. To his credit, it appeared that he was trying his best not to look irritated.

The man's discomfort was clearly visible in his stiff posture. He was sitting slouched in his seat more so than usual, propping Sanji's blonde head in his left hand whilst he proceeded to prod languidly at the food on his plate with an empty, blue eyed stare.

Whatever the man was thinking about, it certainly wasn't the cuisine in front of him.

"Are you ok Zoro?" Luffy asked in concern.

It was just like Luffy to be so blunt, and just one of the many reasons why Zoro adored his Captain.

He liked it when people were honest.

Interrupted from his dazed thoughts, the swordsman glanced over to the raven haired pirate, responding simply, and almost dismally.

"Fine Captain," he replied quietly, restraining a small sigh. He could feel their eyes upon him; they'd been glancing occasionally in his direction ever since he'd sat down. Although it looked as if he wasn't paying attention, he couldn't ignore the feeling of being watched.

He hated it.

He couldn't concentrate when he knew that someone was watching him- he was the same during meditation and training. In the private confines of the crow's nest, he could be guaranteed privacy and peace on the busy ship. There was always something going on the Sunny, whether it was Luffy, Usopp and Chopper up to their usual sneaky antics, or Franky working on some kind of new magnificent invention below deck. On the odd occasion when Sanji Blackleg wasn't swooning over his precious female crew mates, he could be heard dropping something in the kitchen, the sound of breaking glass followed by a string of heated curses.

Glancing at the cook briefly before averting his gaze back to his full plate, the green haired swordsman wished that the cook could use the same level of passion to do other things besides his cooking- preferably something involving the two of them...

He could imagine the skinny blonde trailing his fingers across his chest, toying with the cold jewellery in his ear with a wet and skilful tongue. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to be touched by those talented hands -

"You're not feeling sick are you Zoro? Maybe I should check your temperature, you're looking a little flushed-" the concerned reindeer said.

'Fuck,' Zoro thought, trying to ignore the perverted visions of Sanji that continued to bleed through his mind. As he tried to tell Chopper that he was feeling fine, he found that the words didn't quite leave his throat- Sanji's throat.

Chopper placed a hoof on the swordsman's head and frowned.

"You're feeling warm Zoro, perhaps you should lay down-"

"I'm fine-" he replied rather quickly, too quickly perhaps. He could see the reindeer narrow his gaze, examining him with his eyes. "Don't waste your concern on me."

"At least let me take your-"

"I'm fine," Zoro replied firmly. "You should get some sleep, you're probably exhausted."

"I should be going. I need to watch him-"

"I'll do it," Franky interrupted, leaving his seat promptly. Pressing his nose, strands of neon blue hair sprouted from his scalp into a familiar and full head of hair. He proceeded to run his hand through his brightly coloured locks, a small smile present on his face as he watched Luffy and Usopp gazing at him in awe.

"I'll never get bored of watching you do that," Usopp said honestly.

"I have the coolest crew ever!" Luffy exclaimed with a satisfied smirk. "I can proudly say that I am the only Captain in the world to have a cyborg with nipple lights!"

"Luffy!" Usopp frowned. "Don't encourage him!"

"I think that Franky's abilities are quite fascinating, however peculiar they might be," Robin added with a smile, taking another sip of wine as she watched Luffy continue to stare at the cyborgs hair in pure amazement.

"Come on Usopp bro," Franky said in amusement. "Show my nipples some love!"

"Keep them away from me!" Usopp shrieked, shielding the man from view by hiding behind his hyperactive captain.

"Come on Usopp," Luffy laughed. "Don't you have nipples too?"

"Don't be stupid Luffy," Nami frowned.

"That's right idiot," Usopp said, "we all do-"

"Even you Brook?" the Captain asked in astonishment, averting his gaze to the skeletal musician seated opposite him. "Wow! I didn't know that skeletons had-"

"I am all bones!" Brook replied, tapping his foot against the floor contently, placing his cup back upon the saucer with a small clink. "With the exception of my afro of course- isn't it amazing?!"

"Idiots," Nami muttered, raking a hand through her orange locks with an irritated sigh.

The thought of having to clear the entire table and wash up before bed was enough to make Sanji release a groan of despair. He could feel himself falling asleep, and wasn't entirely certain that he had the energy to complete such tedious chores.

He was ever so tempted to leave the clearing up until morning- he wouldn't take much persuading. Despite his reluctance, he proceeded to ignore the lazy suggestions emerging in his head and eyed the liquor cabinet longingly. Taking another sip of wine, he quickly abandoned his drink on the kitchen counter with a small grimace. Usually, a glass of red wine in the evening was enough to keep the exhaustion at bay, however Sanji had discovered quite dismally that the swordsman's palette barely even registered the crimson liquid.

He felt as if he hadn't drunk a thing.

"Sanji, can I have cola?" the cyborg asked, beginning to feel rather sluggish. Rather comically, as soon as the words had left his lips, Franky's flamboyant blue hair became limp and lifeless, lacking its usual shine and impressive volume.

"Of course," the cook replied. He approached the fridge and glanced at the keypad on the door, glancing over to his Captain who remained sat at the table. "Turn around Luffy," he demanded, ignoring the raven's protests.

"As if I could see from here!" Luffy replied sulkily as Usopp covered his eyes with a pair of hands.

Satisfied that no one was peeking, the cook entered the four digits into the keypad and opened the large door, retrieving a cold bottle and handing it to Franky, who nodded in thanks. There were only three individuals that were aware of the combination, obviously Sanji himself and also Nami and Robin. Luffy glanced over to Nami with a watery eyed gaze, eyeing the orange haired female with puppy dog eyes.

"Namiiiii, tell me the code!"

"It'll cost you," she replied. Upon hearing this, Zoro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was just like Nami to try and make money from situations like this. He wondered if she ever thought of anything else.

"How much?"

"Three million beli."

"Hey Franky!" Luffy called to the cyborg enthusiastically, not in the slightest put off by Nami's ridiculously demanding figures.

"Yeah bro?"

"Can I borrow three million beli-OW!" He hissed as Nami proceeded to extend a hand and smack him on the back of his head.

"Don't demand things like that idiot!"

"Why not?! I'm the captain of this ship. Sanji, give me the code, Captains orders!"

"In your dreams," the cook muttered as he approached the liquor cabinet, the swordsman's heavy footsteps sounding against the wooden floor as he walked. Opening the stiffly hinged door's, he glanced wearily at the array of bottles before him, narrowing his dark eyes as he observed the faint labels with curiosity. Scanning the contents of the cabinet, he reached in and took hold of a bottle of whiskey, grasping it tightly in one hand and he returned to his familiar spot beside the counter, reaching for a glass.

"Are you ok bro?" Franky asked, his voice slightly tinged with concern.

"I'm fine," Sanji replied mechanically in the swordsman's low voice, offering the cyborg a weak smile as he began to pour himself a drink.

Although he remained unconvinced by the response, Franky didn't push the matter any further. He replaced the empty bottle in the compartment of his stomach with a fresh, ice cold bottle and almost immediately, the drink began to take effect; his hair was restored to its usual vitality, and the lingering exhaustion that had begun to plague him quickly disappeared.

"I guess we're all a little tired hm? It's been a long day!" Franky glanced over to the exhausted looking reindeer who appeared to be almost falling asleep in his seat. "Get some sleep Chopper bro," he said, his heavy footsteps disappearing down the echoing hallway as he headed for the sick bay.

It wasn't long until the crew began to gradually disperse from the kitchen one by one, thanking Sanji in their usual fashion before heading off contently to bed. One of the last to leave had been Chopper, who had practically dragged himself from his seat and trotted sleepily to bed.

Usually, Zoro didn't tend to hang around after dinner, often being one of the first to leave. That particular evening however, he didn't feel particularly obliged to rush from his seat. His presence didn't remain unnoticed by the cook, who glanced briefly over his broad shoulder from the kitchen sink with a single cloudy, dark eyed gaze.

"If you've got time to sit on my ass, you can help me do the washing up, shithead."

To Sanji's suprise, the swordsman didn't protest. Instead he wondered languidly over to the sink, Sanji's black polished shoes scuffing the floor.

Zoro took the dishcloth from the counter and began to dry the dishes without a single word of complaint as the cook handed them to him, watching as his hands disappeared beneath the soapy water.

Tiredly, the two crew mates continued to clean up in a crippling silence, the only sounds to be heard was the splash of water and the occasional squeak as Zoro dried the large white plates using the cook's slender hands.

Zoro's attention shifted to the shallow glass of murky liquid situated on the counter.

"You don't drink whiskey," he said, reaching for a wet bowl being offered to him by his own dripping, calloused right hand.

"Wine isn't cutting it for me tonight," Sanji replied honestly in the swordsman's voice. "To your barbarian palette, it's like drinking water."

"Looks like we're both feeling shitty tonight love cook," he muttered.

Zoro found his focus slipping, trying to concentrate on the painfully simple task at hand. He watched as he used Sanji's delicate hands to dry the dish in front of him, flexing the man's fingers beneath the artificial lights of the cook's beloved kitchen, sllipping into the depths of his dangerously vivid imagination.

The swordsman was interrupted from his thoughts by a large and dripping calloused hand being waved in front of his face, obscuring his vision, followed by the sound of his own voice.

"So you're deaf as well as stupid now?"

"Shut up... Shitty swordsman," Zoro replied teasingly, rather impressed by his imitation of the cook. "You're dripping water on my counter asshole!"

"Real funny muscle head," Sanji said with a frown of disapproval, completely unimpressed by the man's antics. "Carry on and I'll show you just what this asshole can do."

"Whatever you say Princess-"

"Don't call me that shithead!"

"Jeez, someones on their time of the month-"

Zoro narrowly avoided being injured by a large fist by dodging, ducking to his left away from the counter and the pissed cook; before he could release a heated curse, he felt the white dish slip from his grasp, slipping from his fingers and shattering into several pieces as it hit the hard floor with an audible smash. If his wry comment hadn't set the man on edge already, the broken glass on the kitchen floor was certainly going to be enough to ignite the cook's temper. Sanji always got pissed when things were broken, especially in his kitchen-

"I'll make you pay for that you clumsy prick! That was one of my best pieces of-"

"You tried to hit me, what did you think was going to happen?!" Zoro replied heatedly, grasping his own body by the collar of his green coat, glaring into his single dark eye with irritation. The cook merely scowled in response, trying to pry his fingers from the green material, and doing his best not to squirm in the swordsman's grasp.

"Let go asshole!"

The swordsman held the man in a vice grip, smirking as he watched Sanji try desperately free himself.

Zoro released the man when he felt a kick to his shin, re-coiling his hand and rubbing at the cook's thin leg with a hiss. Dismissing the small throb in Sanji's shin, without warning, he ceased him with both hands, pinning him against the hard kitchen counter.

With a single dark eyed gaze, Sanji looked into his own cloudy blue eye, and found that this time; he was unable to protest against the man's grasp. He'd forgotten how to use the swordsman's limbs; glancing reluctantly at his own features, he found the entire experience rather creepy. It was like looking into a mirror; accept his reflection was no longer within his control, like some kind of twisted nightmare. As the swordsman held him with such force, Sanji began to feel nervous, feeling Zoro's legs grow unsteady in response.

"Let go!" Sanji protested. The stern tone of Zoro's voice remained unconvincing, causing the swordsman's smirk to broaden in satisfaction.

"Maybe I will when you learn some manners."

"That's rich coming from a brute like you-"

"We're both not in the mood for this, cook. As much as I'd like to kick your ass into oblivion right now, it just isn't the same kicking my own head in..."

"As if that would stop you!"

"Whatever," the swordsman replied, releasing the cook promptly. "I'm going to bed."

Releasing his own green haired form, Zoro spun on the cooks heels, ignoring the crunch beneath the blond's feet as he trod on the broken shards of glass. Disappearing through the doorway, he could hear the cook call after him in irritation, gracing a small smile at the man's obvious displeasure.

"What about this broken glass asshole?!"

"Clean it yourself. I wouldn't want to cut up your pretty little fingers now, would I Princess?"

"I should slice off your fingers, you jerk!"


	2. Chapter 2

Sanji Blackleg surveyed the men's quarters with a tired yawn, his bleary eye struggling to keep itself open, barely registering anything beyond a blur.

It had taken a tremendous amount of effort to haul Zoro's form out of bed that morning, trying not to wake any of his crew mates as he climbed down the ladder quietly.

The cook discovered that the nicotine cravings were doing nothing to improve his mood. Sanji was always the first to rise in the mornings, and he'd been surprised to see that Zoro was missing from his bunk, along with Chopper who was probably watching Trafalgar.

Franky had at some point returned from watch during the night, and was now sleeping contently in his bunk.

Glancing at his still sleeping crew mates, his gaze lingered momentarily on the sight of the skeletal musician laying still in one of the bottom bunks. Brooks jaw hung open motionlessly, his bony legs hanging limply over the edge of the bed.

Although Sanji had gotten used to Brook's presence on the ship, it still gave him the chills every morning when he watched the man laying deadly still in his bunk. With nothing but a pair of empty eye sockets, it was impossible to tell if he was sleeping, because quite obviously, he possessed no eyelids.

Sanji wasn't easily freaked however he had to admit, it was creepy.

Grateful that the others were still asleep, the cook released a disgruntled groan, raking a hand through the marimo's ridiculous green hair.

As if making it to the kitchen in one piece wasn't enough of a challenge for the sleepy cook, he had to make a start on breakfast for the crew, as well as dressing himself in Zoro's attire. The previous night he and the swordsman had exchanged keys to their lockers, allowing them both to have access to the correct items of clothing for their current forms. Quickly and quietly Sanji opened the locker and dressed himself, wondering dryly if the swordsman's clothes had been eaten by moths.

Just how was he supposed to feel comfortable in a mere coat and trousers?

It was safe to say that since Zoro had unexpectedly pinned him against the counter that previous night, the cooks dreams had suffered as a consequence.

Fortunately for Sanji his imagination had decided to reverse the situation, and he had thankfully been restored to his own body in the dream, which as nice as it was, did little to comfort him.

It had been a miracle in itself that Sanji Blackleg had managed to get through the night without waking anyone with his incessant tossing and turning; he was paranoid that one day, he'd end up talking in his sleep...

Reaching for the handle of the door, a hand suddenly seized him roughly by the back of the swordsman's green coat, preventing him from leaving as he released a surprised yelp. The frown on his face was soon replaced by an amused smirk as he absorbed the sight in front of him.

Zoro muttered incoherently under his breath his he caught sight of the blonde's seemingly untameable hair in the mirror. The blonde stands were sticking in various directions; Sanji's usually tamed fringe failed to fall neatly in place as it usually did, and instead proceeded to flick up at the ends almost as if the swordsman had stuck his finger into an electrical socket.

Zoro could see the cook smirking in the mirror, and narrowed his eyes in irritation.

"Fix it, or I'll cut it off."

"Touch it and I'll cut something else off, and trust me, you won't be able to grow it back," Sanji replied, before adding, "Stop scowling, it doesn't suit me."

His comment only managed to have the opposite effect. The swordsman responded with a glare, raking a hand through Sanji's soft blonde hair, grimacing as his fingers met several knots. In Zoro's opinion, hair was an unnecessary nuisance, so why on earth the cook decided to wear it in such a fashion was a complete and utter mystery to him.

"Jeez shithead, you ever heard of a hair brush?" The cook asked, commanding the swordsman to sit with the motion of a single hand. The disgruntled crew mate perched reluctantly on a stool, which had originally been intended for Chopper because he struggled to reach anything above the sink.

"Ever thought about taking your own advice?" Zoro replied, eyeing the mop of messy green locks Sanji was sporting that morning.

"It was a rhetorical question shit head..."

'I could have sworn that it was in here,' Sanji thought, frowning as he searched among the maze of shampoo and fragrance bottles. He was beginning to think that Zoro needed his eye testing as he squinted into the dingy cabinet that was perched upon the wall.

Zoro froze as he witnessed the cook retrieve a white bottle from the cabinet, watching as he flicked open the cap and poured a small amount of the pale substance into his hands. As the cook approached him with an outstretched hand, Zoro recoiled slightly, his eyes focused on the mysterious substance with a confused stare.

"Keep still dammit," the cook scolded as the swordsman flinched, proceeding to run Zoro's fingers though his own blonde hair.

"Errr-" Zoro responded in protest as he felt something cold being weaved through Sanji's locks. "What the fuck is this shit?!"

"None of your buisness," the cook replied, raking a hand through his blonde fringe. As always, the product worked a miracle; the formerly devious strands of sun kissed hair were falling neatly in place, the unsightly kinks and tangles disappearing gradually one by one as he worked the swordsman's fingers into the fine stands.

Zoro tried his best to remain still, however now and then he could help but release a squirm of discontent. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed. "You're so gay!"

"Shut up and stay still!"

"You didn't deny it though-"

"What part of shut up didn't you understand Marimo?! Keep still, or I'll make you eat it too!"

Zoro frowned. Oh how he'd love the cook to shut him up in a completely different way- by using his big mouth. Ignoring the man's threat, his mind continued to wonder into dangerous territory as Sanji continued to fix his hair, probably unaware of the swordsman's distant and cloudy eyed gaze. The feeling of someone running their hands through his hair was beginning to send him to sleep.

Suddenly, he was beginning to feel tired again.

"Earth to Marimo! Are you receiving me-"

The swordsman responded with a glare and much to Sanji's surprise, Zoro reached up with the cook's slender hands and raked the long fingers through his green hair, making his own form look reasonably presentable.

Without uttering a single word, he left, leaving a dazed cook behind him as the door clicked shut.

Sanji could have sworn he heard a mutter that sounded suspiciously like 'Thank you.'

///////////////////////////////////

It was a warm day for the crew of the Sunny.

Although there was not much impressive scenery to keep them entertained from the confines of the docked ship, there was a cool breeze that offered comfort from the rays of the beaming sun.

As he frequently did, Zoro was out upon the deck on the ship, relishing in the odd sensation of the cold grass between the cook's toes. He'd kicked off the irritating black polished shoes not long after he'd settled into a comfortable position leaning against the ships railing, watching the tide as it lashed softly against the anchored ship.

Reaching up with a slender hand, he loosened the cook's collar, feeling confined in the long sleeved shirt he'd chosen from the blonde's locker.

He missed the comfortable green coat and the haramaki secured snugly around his waist.

For the past half an hour he'd been absorbed in his newly found activity of watching the tide from the ship, ignoring the urge to disappear into the crow's nest and work up a much needed sweat. Sanji had made it clear that he wouldn't appreciate his body being worked to death. The swordsman had insisted that he would be fine with light exercise, however the cook had merely glared in response, adding shortly after that if he caught Zoro lifting any weights he'd force him to start digging his grave... with a spoon.

Although he usually enjoyed irritating the blonde, Zoro had learned to respect his wishes because he knew that if he kept his end of the bargain, Sanji would keep his too, which included avoiding cigarettes.

He was feeling fidgety.

Since he was having so much trouble, the swordsman just didn't know what to do with himself.

He just couldn't relax.

He'd been tempted to retreat to the crow's nest and polish his swords until he'd remembered that he'd already done so that morning. There was only so many times you could clean them until it got boring, and he didn't want to cut the cook, because that would give him another reason to be pissed.

Closing Sanji's blue eyes, he titled his head towards the sun, relishing in the pleasant warmth.

He could hear the sound of almost inaudible footsteps approaching him, moving across the deck until they ceased beside him. After meditating for many years, Zoro had learned to recognise and even the smallest of sounds.

If anyone listened carefully enough, it was easy to distinguish between the footsteps of each crew mate; for example, whilst Franky tended to make much more noise because of his bulky figure, Luffy could be heard wondering across the ship in his equally noisy sandals. Sanji usually wore black polished shoes that made a distinctive tapping sound when they made contact with the wooden floors of the ship, and Choppers feet made a very distinctive clicking sound.

There was only one crew mate that could walk across the deck making almost so noise at all, and that was the skeletal musician.

"Enjoying the weather as always I see," Brook commented, bones making a distinctive tapping sound against the hard wood as he drummed his skeletal fingers. "Any plans for today?"

"Chores," the swordsman replied simply, opening his eyes and watching the calm tide ebbing against the side of the ship. "How about you? Out to get a tan?"

Had Brook possessed lips, he would have without a doubt curled them into a small smile. "I'd be out here for centuries," he said with a laugh, glancing up at the sky through a pair of pink tinted sunglasses.

The audible sound of Usopp's screeching could be heard emerging from somewhere below deck; he appeared to be running after Luffy who had probably been raiding his tool box again. Luffy merely retorted with a proud grin, "Want it? Come and get it!" The sniper responded with a string of curses, and the sound of something crashing echoed throughout the entire ship.

'Usopp's out for blood again,' Zoro thought, hearing the sniper shout something that sounded suspiciously like swearing. "They make enough noise to wake the dead," he commented.

"I feel fortunate that I do not have ear drums to shatter," the musician said, the sun beaming brightly on the orange feather boas that were draped around his neck. Since the crew had reunited, it had become apparent to the crew that Brook had developed a new taste in flamboyant clothes, a striking contrast to the black suit he'd been seen sporting for so long. His floral red trousers and orange feather boa where perhaps just as blinding as the blazing sun; the skeletons new wardrobe certainly reflected his intriguing personality. Gazing at the musician and his flamboyant attire, Roronoa Zoro found it difficult to be intimidated by the skeleton, despite the fact that he stood at an impressive eight foot five. Being the oldest crew mate at the age of ninety years old, Brook was certainly a well-respected member of Luffy's crew.

He had no organs to speak of, yet he still had the ability to feel pain, cry, and eat.

The skeleton was truly fascinating.

Zoro would hardly describe himself as a social butterfly, however he had to admit that since joining Luffy's crew, he'd changed in many ways.

Although he enjoyed spending the day peacefully perched in the crow's nest or sleeping sprawled across the deck, he always felt at ease in the company of his crew mates, with the exception of a blonde cook of course...

It wasn't unusual for him to feel his stomach clench when the blonde did simple things, such as sitting close to him, pass him on the deck, or even light a cigarette.

Only Sanji could make such an innocent gesture seem so very wrong. The way he toyed with the smoke between his lips was almost torturous.

Not long after the crew had reunited, Zoro had risen from his bunk earlier than usual one particular morning. The first few weeks back on the ship had been hard to adjust to. He'd attempted to go back to sleep, however he'd soon surrendered and crawled tiredly from his hammock. It had been no surprise to him that Sanji had already risen- the cook was always the first to wake, with the exception of whoever had been placed on watch duty during the night.

Intending to spend the morning training in the crow's nest, the swordsman had left the men's quarters, climbed the stairs, and strolled wearily towards his destination.

Upon his journey he'd caught sight of a familiar head of ruffled blonde hair through the window in his peripheral vision.

The swordsman watched as Sanji began to complete his stretches gracefully, stretching his arms above his head. Zoro felt surprisingly guilty for watching the him like this, yet he found that he was unable to move, as if he'd lost the sensation in his legs. He was transfixed, at the mercy of the cook and his impressively flexible limbs.

As the blonde began to reach for his toes, the swordsman observed with a piercing black eye, watching the cook bend further and further, until he was touching his toes-

He'd been annoyed earlier for not being able to go back to sleep, however it had certainly been worth waking early to steal a glance at that mighty fine ass-

'Fuck.'

As Sanji began to continue his stretches, the swordsman's mind began to lurk dangerously in the gutter as the blonde began to bend and stretch on deck. Zoro only wished that he could see the x-rated version of the routine that the cook was performing…

"You're looking bored Zoro," Brook observed, watching the swordsman visibly sink his shoulders in defeat.

"Yeah..."

"I'm sure Sanji could find you something to do-"

"Hell no! I broke a plate yesterday... He's probably going to crucify me."

The skeleton laughed and removed his bony hands from the railing, scratching his impressive afro contently before turning swiftly on his heel.

"I'm glad someone finds it funny," Zoro replied, trying his best not to smile. Brooks laugh was absolutely contagious- once the musician started, there was just no stopping him.

No matter how many pieces he was in, Brook always seemed to be able to make a skull joke to liven the atmosphere. The swordsman wondered if it was his way of dealing with tough situations- even at the most inconsiderate of times, the musician always managed to find the strength to laugh it off. It was no wonder that Brook and Luffy had gotten on so well within seconds of meeting each other.

"I'm sure that he'll forgive you eventually!" Brook exclaimed with his usual joyful tone. "Perhaps you should try and sweeten him with an apology-"

"He's not interested in anything that he can't use to batter me with."

"Yohohoho!"

Before the poor musician could comprehend what was happening, he found himself being knocked off of his feet as a familiar figure collided with him. Luffy, attempting to avoid being chased by a livid Usopp, had been a little careless in watching where he was going, eventually running into the innocent skeleton, who landed on the grassy deck with a yelp.

"Sorry Brook!"

Clambering off of the skeleton with a laugh, he picked his hat up from the floor, perching it back on his head, climbing to his feet. As he extended a hand to the skeleton in a bid to help him up, he was surprised to find that Brook lay motionlessly on the deck- Usopp prodded the musician and shrieked.

"He's not breathing! You killed him Luffy!"

"I didn't kill him silly, he's playing dead! Hey Brook, can I play too?"

"Murderer!"

"Idiots..." Nami sighed from her deckchair, basking in the rays of the sun with a cocktail in her left hand. "Of course he's not breathing you moron, he doesn't have any lungs!"

////////////////////////////////////////

Eventually, the bored swordsman managed to slip into a light slumber as he lay sprawled across the warm deck. He dozed on, oblivious to the loud clanging noises emerging from Franky's weapon development room below deck.

He loved sleeping on warm days like this.

For Zoro, sleeping was just like meditation- an escape.

A while later, slowly emerging from the depths of slumber, Roronoa Zoro became aware of the sound of a familiar voice slowly drifting through his ear drums- his own.

After realising dismally that he was just hearing Sanji talking to Nami and Robin whilst he refilled their glasses, the swordsman succeeded in tuning out the tedious chatting and decided to catch another few minutes of shut eye.

Just as he was close to falling asleep, something began to distract him.

Something was giving him a headache, the powerful smell of- well, he wasn't sure what it was exactly, however knew that it was making him feel nauseous.

The swordsman inhaled deeply, trying to analyse the scent in frustration. He recognised the familiar smell. It was similar to Sanji's cologne. It was one of the scents that was always detectable on the cook, aside from the waft of cigarette smoke that followed him around the ship like his second shadow.

What puzzled Zoro the most, was the fact that he hadn't put on any of Sanji's cologne that day, only leaving one remaining possibility.

"What do you want?" the cook asked bluntly.

The swordsman groaned, pinching the bridge of the cook's nose. "That crap you've got on stinks- you're burning my sinuses!"

"I think you'll find that they are my sinuses shit head."

"Whatever. God. I smell like such a pansy!"

"A caveman like you wouldn't appreciate smelling like anything other than shit-"

"You're not wearing that tomorrow!" Zoro declared boldy, pointing a finger accusingly at the cook. "I swear to god next time I'll make you wash it off by throwing you in the ocean!"

Sanji Blackleg couldn't resist the urge to deliver a kick to the unsuspecting swordsman, who recoiled with a hiss as a foot collided with his thigh. Although it hurt Sanji to beat his own body, he thought that the shit head could do with learning some manners; unfortunately, it seemed that he was going to have to beat them into him.

His head was pounding like there was no tomorrow, aching and throbbing in protest at every sound.

Sanji hated taking pills, and avoided them whenever he could, unless he was being harassed severely by Chopper. The way they caught in his throat every time he tried to swallow them...

Ergh.

As much as he wanted to cease the tantrum in his head, he stubbornly insisted to himself that he didn't need to seek the help of the ship's doctor; the poor reindeer was busy enough watching over Trafalgar, without Sanji asking for tedious advice regarding headache cures. He wasn't prepared to face another lecture about the dangers of smoking again. Once had been enough, and there wasn't anything that could persuade him to sit through another session ever again. Although it was heart-warming enough that Chopper was concerned, he didn't need the reindeer to tell him how bad it was for his health. He knew that already. The only thing preventing him from curbing his addiction was stubbornness.

Stubbornness...

The word itself reminded him of another crew mate in particular- the shitty, green haired swordsman.

Oh was he stubborn.

The man tried to idiotically refuse help even when he was bleeding profoundly in what seemed like rivers across the clean deck. Honestly, Sanji had wondered if the swordsman possessed some weird fetish of some sort, because he seemed far too eager to bleed whenever the opportunity arose. The cook had seen the bastard drenched the foul crimson liquid like he'd been standing under a waterfall, and still the moron tried to insist that he was fine. Sanji wondered, was it stubbornness, pride, or just plain idiocy?

The man looked appealingly dangerous when he was covered in blood...

"-kick me for?"

The sound of his own voice raised in irritation interrupted the cook from his thoughts.

He was in no mood to fight, especially not with Zoro of all people.

Since the transition from his body to the swordsman's, his passion for kicking the brute's ass had almost completely disappeared, like the extinguishing of a blazing camp fire. It just wasn't the same kicking his own ass- it completely lacked the usual thrill he usually got from such a motion.

The cook's next move surprised Zoro, Nami and Robin.

Instead of barking back with a bitter insult or curse in his usual fashion, Sanji ignored the provoking swordsman, and disappeared back into the haven of his kitchen, the empty tray tucked under his arm.

///////////////////////////////////////

For what had felt like the millionth time that afternoon, Sanji Blackleg gazed longingly at the packed of cigarettes that sat a little distance across the table from him, fighting the urge to surrender to the tantrum he was currently battling in his head. Somewhere deep down, he wanted nothing more than to lunge for the pack and fumble desperately for a lighter; he wished it could be that simple.

Sanji had done a lot of thinking for the past few hours, about a variety of topics, from the transition into Zoro's body, to what he was going to make for dinner that evening. Among the thoughts drifting through his mind, there was something bugging him slightly; despite the fact that it was a trivial matter, it irritated him just the same.

For the past few hours he'd been craving a smoke, ignoring the pounding he was experiencing in Zoro's head dismally, trying to find something he could concentrate on in the hope that he'd forget about the urge to reach for a lighter.

He thought that it was particularly strange that he still fancied a smoke after transitioning into Zoro's body. Surely, wouldn't it have made more sense for Zoro to be craving a cigarette?

Their souls resided in each other's bodies, but without Trafalgar's knowledge, no one really knew the true extent of the switch. Sanji wondered, just what did the soul really consist of? He had no idea how any of this was even possible... Just thinking about it made his- Zoro's head pound even more.

Surveying the large fish tank surrounding the room, he watched its inhabitants swim through the water languidly beneath the artificial lighting, listening to the sound of the humming filter that filled his ears. He couldn't deny the fact that Franky had done an amazing job with the ship. The word amazing itself was one hell of an understatement. Sanji felt privileged to be able to live in such a well designed ship. Often he found himself sitting at the aquarium bar and watching the fish contently, relaxing at the table with a drink in his hand before bed. Upon seeing the kitchen for the first time, the cook had thought that he'd died and gone to heaven. At the moment, his kitchen had begun to seem more like a hiding place than the luxurious, creative room it had first been destined to be.

For the past day or two he'd been moping around in the kitchen to avoid interaction with the other crew mates like some kind of vampire. He didn't want to subject the others to his foul moods, in the hope that by confining himself he would somehow be able to pull himself together.

Averting his gaze back to the pack of cigarettes on the bar table, he extended a hand eagerly. When Zoro's fingertips reached the pack, an unexpected voice emerged from behind him, making Sanji jump in his seat.

"Don't even think about it."

Sanji recoiled upon hearing the sound of his own voice.

"I thought I locked the door..."

"You did," Zoro replied simply, watching the cook gaze longingly at the pack of smokes laying inanimately across the table.

"How did you get in?"

"I used the lift..."

Sanji realised that he'd been so absorbed in his thoughts, that he hadn't heard the clicking of the lift door coming from the ship's mask behind him. The crew could gain access to the aquarium bar by either using the door or the lift that was built into the mast, which had originally been built so Sanji could easily transfer drinks and food back and forth from the kitchen.

"Are you... ok?"

"My head-"

"My head," Zoro corrected.

"-feels like it's turning inside out," Sanji continued, resting his head in his hands as he proceeded to watch the fish swimming in the aquarium.

Sanji liked to watch the fish most evenings, retiring to the bar before bed if no one was currently occupying it. He felt guilty as he watched the creatures swim happily, because he knew that one day he'd be dissecting them on his hopping board.

"You know, this would be a good opportunity for you to quit," Zoro suggested, resisting the urge to grimace. He couldn't believe that he just attempted to offer the cook some advice.

"I'll stop smoking when you stop drinking, shithead. I don't need any more of these conversations," the cook insisted. "I already had one from Chopper, and it still gives me nightmares..."

"Know how you feel," Zoro muttered, remembering a similar incident he had with the small reindeer in the sick bay. "He kept showing me diagrams and shit..."

"Come on Marimo," Sanji retorted, a smile threatening to tug at his lips. "You're leaving me in suspense here."

"Don't make me talk about it, or you might see that salad you made at lunch again..."

Sanji was just waiting to be ambushed by Zoro for kicking him earlier- he wondered just how long it would take before the moss head would snap.

Zoro wondered if the transition had done anything to correct Sanji's short fuse. He wondered if he was dreaming. If he was dreaming, there would be beer, and currently, he couldn't find a damn trace of it on the ship. It was almost as if it had disappeared entirely. He had a funny feeling that the disappearance of the booze had something to do with the cook. He could have sworn that there was at least four bottles left, because he'd heard the princess say something about going shopping to stock up...

He had to be hiding it somewhere.

The swordsman released an audible sigh. "This is so..."

"Insane? Unbelievable? Take your pick," Sanji replied. "I'm gunna kick his ass when he wakes up, and that's a promise."

"Is it so bad being me?"

'Well,' Zoro thought as the words left his lips. 'That didn't sound pathetic at all...' He blamed the cook's big mouth. If only he could put it to some good use...

"I didn't mean it like that," Sanji replied, feeling like a total jerk. "It's just- Everything I do seems to be more clumsy that usual, you know? Like I don't really have any control over anything..."

"Does this have anything to do with the smashing sound I heard earlier?"

The way that the cook was staring so intensely at the counter with his head down, it almost seemed as if he were trying to make himself invisible.

He looked embarrassed.

"I broke a jar."

"Don't try and blame your clumsiness on me," the swordsman replied accusingly, folding Sanji's arms.

"I wasn't clumsy shit head! I was just holding it, and it just... smashed."

"I guess sometimes I don't realise my own strength-"

"Don't flatter yourself asshole!"

"Well, since we're back to arguing again, where the hell did you put the beer you shitty love cook?!"

It sure was nice to know that his efforts hadn't remained unnoticed, although Sanji had to admit, the swordsman was developing a habit of rifling around in his kitchen.

He wondered sometimes if Zoro was an alcoholic.

"Somewhere where you can't find it, moss head."

Zoro frowned, tapping the cook's long, slender fingers on the hard table in thought, muttering a string of curses under his breath. He was certain that he'd checked all of the right places...   
Sanji wasn't a complete idiot. The cook wouldn't hide it somewhere that it would be easily accessible, meaning it was either concealed very well, or perhaps he just wasn't looking hard enough. Not in the least put off by his unsuccessful quest so far, Zoro decided that he still had plenty of searching to do.

"Whatever. I'll find it myself..."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey Zoro- Sorry Sanji! I still can't-"

"Get used to it? Me neither," Sanji replied, offering a shrug to his Captain.

Another day had passed and still Sanji and Zoro found themselves residing in each other's forms, waiting patiently for Trafalgar Law to heal and regain consciousness. It occurred to Sanji as he was preparing breakfast that he hadn't yet inquired with Chopper about Trafalgar's condition.

He should have felt at least an ounce of sympathy for the man, out cold in the medical bay and sprawled across the cot, displaying about as much activity as an inanimate object.

He didn't.

Although the cook knew that he was perhaps being rather bitter about Law's current state, he couldn't feel much sympathy whilst he resided in Zoro's body.

It was a constant reminder of what the bastard had done to him.

Sanji disliked the manner in which Law tended to use his abilities- without warning or asking.

The switch hadn't been necessary during the fight, so why on earth did he do it?

Apparently, Trafalgar had an odd sense of humour...

It wasn't long until the table was full, with the exception of Chopper, who once again was probably isolating himself in the sick bay with their latest patient.

"Luffy, will you do me a favour?"

"Do I get meat?"

"Yeah, whatever… Could you ask Chopper to come and eat for me? Wait- let me rephrase that," Sanji said, furrowing the swordsman's brow at the thought of Chopper missing yet another meal. "He gets no choice. Drag him if you have to."

"Ok Sanji!" an ecstatic Luffy replied, his sandals slapping noisily against the deck as he quickly disappeared down the hallway at full speed, relishing happily at the promise of meat.

Deep down, Sanji felt slightly guilty for bribing Luffy with the promise of food. Although he hadn't originally intended to give him anything, he was beginning to reconsider.

Perhaps if he tried, he could make the rubber captain forget by making excuses or changing the subject- it was worth a try, although there was absolutely nothing that could make Luffy forget about meat.

The sound of clinking cutlery and quiet conversation filled the air, a familiar sound that often accompanied breakfast on the ship.

Unlike the later meals, the earliest sitting was usually always the quietest.

It was a time when everyone was still rousing from sleep, too tired to really make a ruckus in the kitchen with the exception of one crew member. Sanji had never seen his Captain ever really tired.

He only wished that Luffy's energetic persona was contagious, and then perhaps he could make breakfast in the mornings without having to worry about slicing his fingers when he was still half asleep.

It wasn't long until the Straw-hat returned, dragging an unimpressed Chopper through the doorway, much to everyone else's amusement. Like always Luffy's returning presence had been detected before he'd physically arrived in the room, his laughter echoing through the long hallway along with Choppers raised protests.

Dumping the reindeer in his seat, Luffy resumed his place at the table, turning to Sanji with a wide smile.

"Luffy!" Chopper protested in irritation, frowning at his Captain. "I told you, I was busy!"

"Sanji told me to," Luffy insisted. "He said I could have meat!"

"You're not leaving this table until you've eaten something Chopper," Sanji said firmly, folding the swordsman's arms across his chest.

"I should be watching Trafalgar," the reindeer insisted, squirming as Luffy pinned him firmly to the seat with a pair of strong, rubber arms that had stretched from one end of the long table to the other impressively. "What if-"

"Don't make me come down there!" Sanji threatened. "I'm being serious. Eat, and then I'll let you go."

"But Sanji-"

"Chopper."

The reindeer almost immediately ceased his squirming when a hand came to rest upon his shoulder, and craning his head slowly he met the newly acquired blue eyed gaze of Roronoa Zoro.

Despite the familiar mop of blonde hair and ironed blue shirt, the difference was clear. Zoro lacked Sanji's usual immaculate fashion, choosing instead to roll the cooks sleeves to the elbow and leave a few buttons open at the collar.

"Sorry Zoro, I-"

"Don't apologise you idiot," the swordsman replied bluntly. "Just eat something."

"SANJI! I want meat!"

"Not now Luffy! It's too early-"

"It's never too early for meat!"

"Yes it is."

"Says who?!"

"Me. Now shut up, or I won't give you anything."

"But you promised!"

"I never promised you anything, now shut up and eat rubber boy."

After a decent breakfast Chopper was granted his freedom, and much to the reindeer's protest, he was ordered not to return to the sick bay. Instead, he was advised to use his empty schedule to relax and catch some much needed shut eye.

Eventually, he soon realised that arguing would get him nowhere, and so he slipped away from the table to return to the men's quarters, his hoofed footsteps clicking against the wooden floor as he sauntered through the hallway, a yawn escaping his mouth.

"Someone needs to watch Trafalgar," Nami declared, reaching for her glass. The orange haired navigator was usually easily irritated at this time of morning. It seemed that as usual she was on the verge of falling asleep, watching Luffy eye the contents of her plate suspiciously through a pair of narrowed eyes.

'Why don't you do it?' Zoro thought, taking another brutal stab at the contents of his plate.

Even the smallest of things seemed to be annoying him more than usual lately. Judging by the hassle he'd had dressing himself that morning, he had a funny feeling that the day was going to have many thrilling surprises in store for him.

Roronoa Zoro had woken that morning to the sound of incessant snoring.

Upon waking he inspected the surrounding bunks, concluding that the culprit was Luffy.

Reluctantly he pried himself from his bunk and dressed, so darn tired that he'd it had taken a short eternity to button the cook's stupid shirt. Zoro had never been good with buttons. He deemed them unnecessary and an inconvenience, although that had a lot to do with the fact that he was often too lazy to button them properly.

After banging the cooks elbow on his locker, he'd already lost his patience, scowling as he'd fought with the tiny buttons from collar to cuff.

"I nominate Marimo," Sanji said with a small smirk, watching as the swordsman glanced up at him from across the far end of the table through a narrowed blue eye, acknowledging the cook's suggestion with a huff.

"Since you're so willing to do it, why don't you watch him?" Zoro challenged, knowing that he was likely to lose this battle. He'd spent the past few days moping around on deck sunbathing, so it was only natural that he should be picked for such a dismal task. He wondered if Sanji was trying to irritate him on purpose. The cook was too good at winding him up the wrong way. Zoro vowed to get his revenge one way or another. There was no way he'd it slide this time, especially since he was being deprived of his favourite alcohol.

"Because I'm busy shithead, which is the least I can say for you. Now go and watch Trafalgar."

"Number one does not take orders from number seven," Zoro replied, concealing his satisfied smirk by taking a mouthful of juice.

"Shut up asshole," Sanji exclaimed, "I thought you'd stopped with that shit! You only got there first because you cheated!"

"Number one does not acknowledge number seven," the swordsman replied.

"Oh yeah?"

The cook refilled Robins drink, a glass pitcher grasped in Zoro's large, calloused hand. "How about you acknowledge my fist in your face?!"

"My face," Zoro corrected, unable to suppress a smug smile.

He knew that he was unlikely going to be able to talk himself out of looking after Law, however he decided that he'd certainly enjoy trying.

Sanji merely scowled in response, realising that the expression was a regular occurrence on the swordsman's face.

'It's too early for this,' Nami thought dismally, her head beginning to pound.

She sighed, realising that her usual threats just didn't seem to be working anymore.

"What have I told you about arguing this early? You're giving me a headache!"

"My sincerest apologies Nami-swan!" Sanji swooned, and the room fell into an immediate silence.

The occupants of the table regarded him with vacant expressions, with the exception of Luffy, who was busy enjoying the chef's cuisine.

"What?"

"Sanji bro..." Franky began, rendered speechless..

"That was..." Usopp continued with a distant, glassy eyed stare.

"Interesting," Robin finished, a familiar smile perched upon her lips.

"What would you be referring to Robin-chan?!"

"That," Zoro said accusingly, a look of disgust displayed upon the cook's fine features. "That swooning shit you do."

"My, how interesting Sanji-kun!" Brook exclaimed, his teeth chattering slightly as he spoke. "That was a little odd coming from Zoro, yohoho! Do it again-"

"Don't encourage him!"

The swordsman scolded the musician, glaring into the skeletons empty eye sockets.

"Don't do it again when you're using my mouth," he warned Sanji. "That shits not fucking natural."

"Just like your hair then, shit head," the cook quickly replied. This was all Trafalgar's fault. The bastard would pay for making him embarrassed. Sanji vowed that as soon as Law was up and walking, he'd turn him into a stir fry...

"You better get going Zoro," Nami said stiffly. "Trafalgar's waiting for you."

'Waiting my ass,' Zoro thought with a scoff. 'I'll watch him, but I can't guarantee that he'll stay in one piece...'

"Fine," he said with a huff, yawning as he stretched, arching the cooks back with a satisfied groan. "But I want a beer, cook."

"In your dreams Marimo."

'It was worth a try,' he thought, his attention suddenly fixated on the large fridge. He narrowed his blue eyes in determination and promptly left his seat, heading straight for the locked device.

Sanji resisted the urge to roll his- Zoro's eye when the swordsman extended a hand and grasped the handle of the door, giving it a sharp tug with a disapproved grunt.

"I know they're in there cook."

"Looks like you're head's not full of moss after all-"

"Your head," Zoro corrected again, glaring at the combination keypad that was separating him from his beloved alcohol.

"What are you going to do shithead, cut it with your swords?"

'Don't give me ideas,' the swordsman thought, narrowing his eyes in determination. He surveyed the keypad with a challenging glare.

Zoro could have sworn that those inanimate digits were mocking him...

It was an impossible task, yet somehow the Marimo felt obliged to at least make an attempt.

He tried to concentrate- just like his meditation.

The sound of his own voice pierced his ears as the cook uttered a discouraging, "You're wasting your time shit head."

With a growl of determination the swordsman extended a slender hand, and using Sanji's long fingers he entered the first sequence that came to mind, uncaring that his efforts were almost certainly going to be useless.

The numbers in the cooks head were almost as clear as day, etched into his thoughts as if they were destined to be there.

He entered a four digit sequence, 7, 3, 2, 6.

Unexpectedly, the door sounded with a click, and Zoro was unable to supress a genuine smile and he plucked a cold bottle from the rack, clutching it proudly as if it were a trophy.

"Wasting my time hm?"

Sanji had never been so speechless.

As he watched the swordsman saunter towards the door with an ice cold bottle in hand, he'd almost been too dazed to call after him.

The bastard was going to pollute his body with a cheap beer.

A shitty beer.

"I'll be taking this for my troubles," the swordsman said as he lingered momentarily in the kitchen doorway. He paused, flicking off the cap and holding the neck of the bottle dangerously close to his lips.

"Don't even think about it shithead."

"Just watch me."

/////////////////////////////////////////

One broken bottle and a kick to the shin later, Zoro found himself trapped between the bland four walls of the sick bay, slouching boredly on Choppers favourite swivel chair. He glared at the still figure lying in the large bed, encased with crisp white sheets like a lifeless corpse.

He was losing his mind, and he'd only been watching over him for a couple of hours.

Zoro was easily occupied, however it seemed that he was just unable to focus on anything.

After spending the first hour watching the steady rise and fall of Law's chest, Zoro had tried to avert his attention to something else, eventually fixing his gaze on the small clock hanging on the wall.

The slow ticking of the device had quickly begun to drive him insane, and he'd tried so hard to ignore it…..

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but listen to the incessant ticking noise….

Eventually Zoro had stuffed the clock into Choppers filing cabinet, relieved when he could no longer hear the repetitive ticking.

He studied Trafalgar through a pair of curious blue eyes, raking a hand idly through the blond fringe that hung in his eyes. Law was a slim man of average height, his frame swathed in sheets that were pulled to his chest. His arms rested on top of the clean sheets, the black tribal tattoo's vivid against his skin.

His gaze fixated on Laws's left hand, studying the five ominous letters inked on the back of his fingers.

He wondered why anyone would choose to have something so morbid inked permanently to their skin. Perhaps Trafalgar wanted to show the world that he wasn't afraid of death. Maybe he was reading too deep into this, and Law just decided to get a tattoo on a whim.

It was odd to see Trafalgar with anything other than a smile on his face. He looked almost like a stranger without a hat upon his head.

The swordsman admired the small earrings that Trafalgar sported in each of his ears, reminding him of his own piercings. He sighed at the thought of the three earrings that adorned his own left ear, the cold pieces chiming together as he walked- he missed them. Of all the things that Zoro could miss about being in his own form, he found himself missing those small gold pieces. They were like his swords, an extension of himself; accept he couldn't feel with them at all.

He wondered if Law felt the same way about his tattoos.

Zoro wasn't completely against the idea of being inked.

The human body was like a canvas, waiting to be marked. Some painted it with tattoos, others with scars. Like Trafalgar and his tattoo's, the swordsman would carry his scars for life, each mark had its own story to tell. Although it was unlikely that he'd ever gain a tattoo, Zoro wondered how much it hurt. He was certain that the pain couldn't be too bad, because it seemed that even Nami had been able to tolerate the unpleasant sensation.

He wondered, if he had to choose a tattoo, what would he have?

He wasn't so sure.

Watching the steady rise and fall of Law's chest, Zoro wondered how long it would take to smother the bastard with a pillow. It was almost funny how fragile humans really were. He was sure that it wouldn't take much effort at all to choke the life out of the unconscious man in front of him, however Zoro decided that it wasn't worth the risk or hassle.

He could restrain himself until he was awake.

They needed him in one piece to restore Sanji and Zoro to their rightful bodies. Being the Captain and doctor of the Heart Pirates, Law was in safe hands with Chopper.

Of all the devil fruit abilities, the swordsman decided that this was the most frustrating one he'd encountered so far.

He couldn't believe that Luffy had an alliance with this man of all people. This politely sarcastic, and twisted-

Taking a deep breath, the swordsman realised that he was clenching the cooks hands in irritation.

He supposed that it wasn't that big of a deal having to watch Trafalger sleep, however he was still disappointed that he hadn't been able to finish his beer.

Despite not being able to quench his athirst, he was still slightly chuffed that he'd been able to crack that fridge's lousy four digit code. Being kicked in the back of the thigh by his own leg had been totally worth it just to see the look of surprise on Sanji's face…

/////////////////////////////

Sanji Blackleg approached the bathroom door, his footsteps sounding against the wooden floor as he raked a hair through Zoro's thick green hair.

After attempting to make a start on dinner, he'd managed to burn the rice three times- three times too many in his opinion.

Sanji couldn't remember the last time he'd burned something in the kitchen. Even when he was being pestered by Luffy, he still managed to keep a close eye on the stove.

After cleaning up the mess he'd made, Sanji had decided that it was time for a nice, long bath before returning to the kitchen. After a tough day, having a relaxing soak never failed to put him in a better mood.

As he kicked off the swordsman's thick black boots, he strolled bare foot to the bathroom door, grasping the handle and opening the door with a nudge-

Standing beneath the warm spray of the shower, a familiar blond figure was rinsing the shampoo from his hair.

"Fuck! Sorry-"

"What are you apologising for idiot? Just come in," a familiar voice commanded, sounding slightly amused by his hesitation. "What's the matter princess, never seen yourself naked before?"

Sanji ignored the swordsman and shut the door loudly behind him.

After what seemed to take an eternity to fill the bath with steaming hot water, the cook stripped the swordsman's body of clothes, slipping into the warm water as he muttered a string of curses under his breath.

He blamed Franky for fitting a shower and bath in the same vicinity...

If it hadn't been for the cyborg, he wouldn't have been forced to bathe in the same room as the shitty swordsman, reeling from embarrassment.

Zoro rinsed the shampoo from his newly acquired blonde hair, watching the substance disappear down the narrow plug hole.

It had taken a lot of effort to undress himself the first night after the transition. Zoro had felt almost forbidden to undress without closing his eyes, and he still felt a similar sense of warning in the back of his mind each time he laid a hand on Sanji's body, despite the fact that he was using the cooks own fingers.

It still felt like he was taking advantage of the man.

It made him feel stupid.

He couldn't help but wonder how the blonde was coping with the situation. As the cook sat submerged in the warm water, was he frowning in disgust at the scars on his skin?

Was he disgusted by his recklessness?

Perhaps he didn't care.

Perhaps he didn't care one little bit.

He'd never know.

Sanji began to sink lower, the water lapping against the bottom of his chin as he tried to ignore the aching in his groin.

He was enjoying the water a little too much as the heat relaxed his aching muscles- Zoro's muscles.

'Fuck,' the cook thought in mild alarm, not daring to take a risky glance and see if the Marimo was watching.

The cook considered his possibilities briefly as he raked a wet hand through the swordsman's unusual green hair. He could either grab a towel and make an escape in hope that the Marimo wouldn't spot him nursing a problem, or he could stay in the water until it went cold, hoping that Zoro would leave before him.

Sanji sunk further into the water in despair, wishing that somehow he could disappear as the pleasant warmth eased the tension in Zoro's body.

He almost felt bad for the swordsman.

Almost.

Sanji had long dreamed of being able to examine that tempting muscular chest for himself under close scrutiny, tracing the prominent scar with ghosting fingertips as the muscle rippled beneath his touch-

'Oh shit,' the former blonde thought dismally, realising that his mind was drifting once again into dangerous territory.

The longer he thought about it, the worse that it seemed.

'Think of something else dammit,' he thought desperately, 'like that time you wore that abomination of a dress...'

As the colour returned to his face, he was certain that it wasn't the temperature of the water tinting his cheeks, but embarrassment. He could still remember the feel of the soft fabric against his skin, the feel of the pink cotton clinging to his chest and the hideous ruffles-

'That's it Sanji, just keep thinking of that image.'

Relieved, he discovered that his problem was gone, instead replaced with a pang of shame.

He still had nightmares about that dress.

"Don't forget to wash behind my ears," the swordsman commented dryly as the hum of the shower ceased.

"Shitty marimo- did you just tell a joke?"

"What about it?"

"Fuck. This must be more serious than I thought... You're not sick are you? Maybe you should go and see Chopper-" Sanji craned his neck to take a glance at his own skinny figure standing amidst the disappearing steam, irritated to discover that the swordsman was drying his hair brutishly with the towel. "Oi! Stop right there you barbarian!"

Zoro paused, lowering the towel to drape over the cooks shoulders as he gazed back in confusion.

"What?"

"Don't be so rough shit head, or you'll make me go bald!"

"Now there's an idea…."

"Try it and see what happens, I dare you!"

"What's the matter, scared I'll give you split ends?"

Sanji scowled, emerging from the water and taking care not to slip on the floor as he wrapped a towel around the swordsman's waist, although the attire offered little modesty.

He snatched the towel from the swordsman, who simply stared in confusion.

"If you say anything at all, I'm going to strangle you with this thing. Understand?"

"Yes princess-ow!"

Zoro recoiled from being whipped with the towel, uttering "sadist" as the cook began to dry the blonde hair.

'I feel like a hostage,' he thought with the towel draped over his head.

He wondered if it would feel just as good getting this kind of treatment from Sanji Blackleg in his own body. He quickly dismissed the thought as fingers began to rake through the soft strands, draping the limp fringe back into place.

Zoro wondered why the cook would try to hide behind the soft curtain of hair, until he realised that the reason was entirely obvious; a smirk tugged at his lips as the cook recoiled a single hand from his hair, raising a brow inquisitively.

"I never would have thought in a million years that they curled the same way- OW!" Zoro exclaimed upon receiving another whack, smug smile quickly fading into a mild frown. The swordsman's vision was temporarily obscured as Sanji through the towel in his direction, succeeding in draping it over his head with a weak throw. Extending a slim arm, he tugged at the offending item and allowed it to hang around his neck and shoulders, watching as his own form sauntered back over to the tub, removing the towel and slipping back into the warm water.

"Whatever shit head. Just make me look presentable would you?"

"I'm sure some of Nami's stuff would look great on you-" Zoro flinched in alarm a bar of soap came hurtling in his direction, landing on the floor with a smack and skidding across the wet tiles.

"I'm going already…"

Sanji sighed as he sank deeper into the water, when suddenly; an object collided with the back of his skull.

It was the soap.

Zoro smirked as the door clicked shut behind him.

"Shitty Marimo!"


End file.
